


I saw a shooting star, and thought of you

by QueenNeehola



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, No Spoilers, Post-Canon, Stargazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-25 22:32:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18711013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenNeehola/pseuds/QueenNeehola
Summary: They lay side by side on a small, flat area of the academy roof, looking up at the stars, perfectly hidden from sight in a little pocket of shadow beneath the parapets.  The Flatlands were cool this time of year, but the closed space provided them some relief from the night chill.  Still, Cyrus had insisted on draping his cloak over Therion’s thin shoulders before they lay down, and Therion had let him, grasping the fabric around him greedily and rolling closer to Cyrus’s inviting body heat.





	I saw a shooting star, and thought of you

**Author's Note:**

> again, as always, many thanks to [sam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunarExo) for inspiring me to write this with the insightful comment "cyrus........ showing therion constellations" to which i basically instantly responded "I WANNA WRITE IT"

“That one there in the centre is the Flame.”

Therion rolled his eyes.  “I know the Flame. _Everyone_ knows the Flame.”

“Oh,” said Cyrus, sounding amused, “then why don’t you tell me about some of the lesser-known constellations?”

Therion scoffed and turned away to look back at the sky.  The Flame shone front and centre as always: as the brightest star in the night sky, it was revered by even those who didn’t worship Aelfric as a guiding beacon, leading lost travellers home.  Therion did indeed know it well, though he had little need to follow it any longer now that he had almost permanently settled in Atlasdam.

 

He hadn’t expected, when he had climbed in Cyrus’s office window that evening as he often liked to do - the students were _nosy_ and he preferred to avoid them when he could - that Cyrus would grab him by the arm, yammering ten to the dozen about clear weather and astronomy, and steer him out and up to the door leading to the academy’s roof.  Said door had been securely locked, but Therion had barely flexed his fingers in lock-picking anticipation before Cyrus had produced an old, elegant key and opened it to lead Therion out into the freezing night air. (The smug smile on his face had said that he wasn’t supposed to have the key, that this was a _secret_ , and Therion thrilled quietly at inspiring bad behaviour, however tame, in the normally impeccably behaved professor.)

Now they lay side by side on a small, flat area of the academy roof, looking up at the stars, perfectly hidden from sight in a little pocket of shadow beneath the parapets.  The Flatlands were cool this time of year, but the closed space provided them some relief from the night chill. Still, Cyrus had insisted on draping his cloak over Therion’s thin shoulders before they lay down, and Therion had let him, grasping the fabric around him greedily and rolling closer to Cyrus’s inviting body heat.

 

He pointed up, far to the left of the Flame.  “Well, there's Aeber's Knife.” He followed the path of the constellation with his finger, an obvious arc around a smaller cluster of stars.  “The big one is the knife proper, and the little ones in the middle are either his shining treasures that he’s trying to protect...or the people who wronged him being cut down, depending who you ask.”

“I must admit, I hadn't heard the latter theory before,” Cyrus laughed.  “But it does seem befitting of him.”

Therion smirked and dropped his arm to press firmer against Cyrus.  He was rewarded with Cyrus's arm sliding around his shoulders, cushioning under his neck, and he moved automatically to accommodate the change in position.  “I know a lot of stories like that. The ones they don't teach you in the academy.”

“I insist you tell me all of them,” Cyrus crooned, and Therion felt him move, then the soft press of a kiss against his temple a moment later.  “But first, I have a tale of my own.”

 

Cyrus leaned over Therion to point across him, up again to where Aeber's Knife glittered against the blackness.  But his hand moved and then he was pointing above the constellation, moving in a sweeping gesture as he mapped out a route through the stars for Therion to follow.

“See here?” he asked, and felt the motion of Therion nodding.  “There's actually a hand holding Aeber's Knife. There's the arm, and there—a whole figure.”  It was a bit obscure, as most constellations were, but Therion supposed he could see the stars lining the shape of a torso.

“Is it Aeber?”

“Well, that is one theory,” Cyrus concurred.  “And arguably it makes the most sense, but no one has ever drawn a concrete conclusion.  Either way, I prefer a different take on it.”

“Which is?”

“That it's Alephan.”

“ _Alephan_?” Therion couldn't help making a face.  He twisted to look at Cyrus. “Why would Alephan be holding it?”

Cyrus hummed, the small smile quirking at his lips barely visible in the pale moonlight as he met Therion's gaze.  “In some of the old stories, Aeber and Alephan were depicted as lovers. Aeber was said to have gifted Alephan his knife to protect him always, even when they were apart.”

Therion quietened as Cyrus's words slowly sank in.  He wasn't a religious man, but the thought of the patron sinner of thieves and the esteemed scholarking being lovers heated his chilled body with a soft, excitable warmth like the flicker of a flame.  He wriggled further into Cyrus’s cloak.

On the outside, however, he just laughed.  “What would _Aeber_ see in Alephan?”

“Possibly the same as whatever you see in me, dearest,” Cyrus answered easily, cutting Therion's sarcasm short and making him fall back into flustered silence instead.

 

They stayed like that for longer than either of them could keep track of.  Cyrus pointed out all of the constellations that a professor would know - Draefendi’s Bow, an elegant curve of starlight tapering to a deadly point; Thunderblade, cutting across the sky like a scar; and the many stars named for Steorra, dotted and shining throughout the veil of black - and Therion in return showed him the ones that didn’t have books written about them, the ones that you only came to learn from a lifetime of travel and hearsay on the road and in taverns.  That little cluster in the corner was The Orphans, hiding and afraid, and the small, almost unseen stars hovering near and hidden by the bigger ones’ light were The Opportunities, waiting for their moment to strike.

“And...hmm.  That one.” As they finally stood, stumbling into each other on stiff legs, Therion pointed up once more.  Cyrus tilted his head back to see, and found a star he hadn’t really noticed before, glowing in the midst of the other stars surrounding it but somewhat detached, in a little space all its own.  “That one is definitely you.”

Cyrus quirked an eyebrow.  “Oh? How so?” He looked back to Therion and was met with a devilish grin.

“Because it has all these other stars around it but it doesn’t even notice them.  It’s off doing its own thing. Totally oblivious.”

The expression on Cyrus’s face veered dangerously close to a pout.  It was adorable. He made a quiet huffing noise. That was adorable too.  “I doubt the astronomers of the world would appreciate you taking it upon yourself to name a star after me.  In any case, if one of us must be a star, it should be you.”

Now it was Therion’s turn to look perplexed.  “How come?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Cyrus asked, stepping in close to Therion, sliding his arms around his waist to hold their bodies against one another.  Therion didn’t think it _was_ obvious, but he was sure he was about to get an explanation.  He wasn’t wrong. “With how exquisitely beautiful you are, you can only be celestial in origin.  You’re positively ethereal in the nighttime, my dear, surrounded by shadow, almost a shadow yourself with how effortlessly gracefully you move through the dark, and your hair glows like pure starlight itself by the moon.  It wouldn’t be a stretch to imagine that you’re not of this world, that you fell from the heavens, and I was lucky enough to be the one to catch you—”

The silly, dramatic compliments piled up on Therion’s shoulders, the hefty weight of embarrassment seizing his muscles.  A strained flush crept up his neck, inflaming his skin - which Cyrus was currently waxing poetic about - and as Cyrus bent his head towards him, Therion employed his favourite method to shut his rambling scholar up:

He leaned up and kissed him, hard.

 

And neither of them saw the twin shooting stars that streaked through the sky above them.

**Author's Note:**

> (what if: stardust cytheri AU though)
> 
> [the wonderful gurutze_art on twitter made a beautiful comic of the final scene of this fic, go check it out here!](https://twitter.com/gurutze_art/status/1124861218316070912)


End file.
